Ansley's Big Bake Off Page 8

  I shook my head. “Too hot.”

  Kitty shrugged. “Okay!” and she skipped away with Cammie following close behind, looking suspiciously like she was trying not to giggle.

  Those two are up to something, I thought as I watched them head for the kitchen. I tilted my head. I wonder what I would be like if I were a twin. It could be like having a live-in best friend . . . I pursed my lips . . . or partner in crime.

  Later that morning, once I was finally at school, I made sure to run to the girls’ room before heading to homeroom so that I could put my bow back on. I really have to get a mirror for my locker, I thought as I rushed to tie the scarf. When I was finished, I couldn’t help feeling like I had tied the bow better at home, but it still looked nice. Besides, if I try redoing it now, I’ll probably be late to homeroom, I thought, and I hurried off to Ms. J-J’s class before the bell rang.

  Nikki ran to my side just as I was entering the room. “Cute headband,” she said.

  “Thanks!” I absentmindedly patted it as I searched the room for Taylor. She was already at her seat. Smile, I told myself as I strode up to her chair. Look welcoming and friendly. I nodded. “Hi, Taylor!”

  Her eyes zeroed in on my head. “Nice bow,” she said in a voice completely different from Nikki’s. Nikki’s compliment had been casual, automatic, even. Taylor’s was deliberate and firm and said with a smirk. “Wow, I haven’t worn a bow like that since I was, I don’t know, nine?” she went on. “Definitely before I hit double digits.”

  My smile dropped off my face just as my eyebrows pinched together. “What?”

  “Aren’t you afraid someone’s going to think you’re in the wrong building?” Taylor opened her eyes wide, like she was really concerned, but I knew she was just acting. “Someone might get you confused with one of your little sisters.”

  At that moment the bell rang for the start of homeroom. I sank into my seat without looking back at Taylor. I couldn’t believe she’d been so mean about my bow. Did it really look childish? I thought it had looked really pretty in the mirror! I felt my right hand inching its way toward my head to take the bow off, but my left hand grabbed it and brought it down onto the desktop. I wasn’t going to give Taylor the satisfaction of seeing me take it off. I wasn’t going to let her words have that much power over me.

  Then I heard whispering behind my back. It made me look over my shoulder before I could stop myself. I saw Taylor covering her mouth and speaking in a very low voice to a girl who was sitting next to her. It was Bethany, that girl she had very loudly invited to her party on Friday. They both looked over at me and snickered.

  Are they making fun of me? I crossed my arms. Why would they do that? I turned to face front again, a scowl on my face.

  The bell to mark the start of classes went off, and at that moment, Krista threw herself into her chair next to me, making her straight bob swing neatly. “Oops! Almost late and it’s only day three!” She sounded both embarrassed and amused. Then, like Nikki and Taylor, her eyes went straight to my hair bow. I cringed inwardly, but she said, “Ooh! Nice bow! Pretty.” Then she blinked when she saw my face. “Ansley? Are you okay? You look . . . mad or something.”

  I shook my head. “I’m fine.” I didn’t want to tell Krista what had happened for two reasons. The first was because Ms. J-J was calling the class to order. And the second was because Krista was supposed to be besties with Taylor. I worried that if I started complaining to Krista about Taylor’s behavior I might be seen as a tattletale, or worse, a liar. Krista might even take Taylor’s side. I cupped my chin in my hand and sat dejectedly in my chair. And why did I want to be nice to Taylor in the first place? Should I even bother trying to be her friend when she so obviously doesn’t want to be friends with me? Maybe I won’t go to the bakery party, I thought. Not if Taylor’s going to be mean. I looked sidelong at Krista. She’d be disappointed if I didn’t go, though. I sighed. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do.

  I still wasn’t sure by the time homeroom ended and the change bell rang, but I was glad to leave and get away from Taylor, who had spent the rest of homeroom whispering and giggling with her neighbor.

  My next class was creative writing, which turned out to be held in a classroom just off the library. This meant that we got to be surrounded by shelves of books, and everything smelled like dust, ink, and paper. On one wall above a low shelf of books were photos and portraits of famous writers. Above another low shelf were pictures of covers and illustrations from famous books including a beautiful painting of a unicorn.

  The chairs (which were the kind with built-in mini-desks) were all arranged in a circle, and Krista and I found seats that were next to each other as our teacher introduced himself. His name was Mr. Doyle, and he seemed nice. He was older than my dad and had a soft voice, so we all had to be quiet to hear him well. He told us we were going to read a lot of books and write lots of stories of our own, not to mention poems and essays. He handed out copies of a suggested reading list he thought we should read as “future authors.” I couldn’t help hoping that book with the unicorn on the cover was on it! If it wasn’t, I was going to have to look for it in the library on my own.

  Next, he started our actual lesson talking about poems and how they were some of the oldest forms of storytelling. He told us they can be found in the Bible and pointed out how most of the books that were first read to us as children were really poems, just with pictures. Then he asked for a volunteer to read a poem aloud.

  I raised my hand immediately, thinking, Pick me! Pick me! Seeing the hands of the other students, with their fingers all spread out, suddenly reminded me of Cammie at the meeting last night, counting off the words “you-did-it-to-me.”

  That’s right, I thought as I lowered my hand. I’m supposed to be treating Taylor like she’s Jesus. How quickly I’d forgotten all the things my sisters and I had spoken about the night before! I had asked them all for mom-like advice, and they had all told me to be kind to Taylor, and here I was, giving up so fast. Then it hit me why. What was the first thing my sisters all agreed that Mom would recommend I do? Pray about my problems. I hadn’t really done that!

  I’d better do it now. I waited until the student chosen to read aloud began before I bowed my head and folded my hands together.

  Dear Lord, being kind to people who aren’t kind to you can be hard. Please help me to remember that you live in Taylor and in me so that I can treat her like you would. Amen—oh! One more thing. If Taylor really is hurting, like the way Kitty said she might be, then please show me how I can help her. Thank you! Amen for real this time!

  When I opened my eyes, I felt both calmer and more determined. I not only wanted to follow God better, I believed that he was going to help me do so. It gave me a feeling of stillness that felt comforting, like when your mom or dad covers you with an extra blanket on a cold winter’s night. Keep speaking, Lord, I thought. I’ll keep trying to listen.

  Chapter 12

  When the change bell rang, I bolted out of the classroom before anyone else. I mean, I loved creative writing, but I also loved gym! On the first day of school I had even made sure to find out where the gymnasium was located, so I would know exactly where to go when the time came for me to have my first class.

  Nikki, of course, felt the same way about gym as I did. We found each other outside the gymnasium, and after hesitating at the sight of one another, raced each other inside. Once we were in the locker room, we changed into our shorts and T-shirts, and were out on the gym floor in record time. Then we both ran toward a mat like it was the finish line in a marathon. We ended up reaching it at the same time and collapsing on top of it together, yelling, “It’s a tie!” and laughing. Then, as we waited for our classmates to join us, we began practicing cartwheels and flips on the mat, with Nikki going over some of the choreography for the Gracelet routine with me.

  Taylor and Krista had gym with us too. They came out of the locker room together a couple of minutes later and watched us. Neithe
r of them said anything until I was in the middle of a cartwheel and Taylor shouted, “Break a leg!”

  I clumsily fell out of my cartwheel.

  I could hear Taylor snicker at me.

  Krista’s voice sounded a little shocked (but also like she was holding back a laugh, which I didn’t like) when she said, “Taylor! You don’t say that to gymnasts! You say that to actors before a play. It means ‘good luck.’ When you say that to a gymnast, it means, well, break a leg!”

  “But I said, ‘don’t break a leg.’” Taylor protested. She blinked hard in pretend surprise.

  “I only heard ‘break a leg’.” Krista frowned with confusion.

  “Oh, no.” Taylor’s smile was a smug little “u.” “I just wanted Ansley—and Nikki—to be careful, that’s all.”

  “That’s nice,” Krista said approvingly.

  I shot a glance at Nikki to see what she thought. Nikki shook her head and shrugged, as if to say, “silly Taylor.” She obviously didn’t realize that Taylor had said what she had on purpose.

  Soon, our gym teacher, Ms. Sharon, broke us up into groups and had us playing four games of volleyball in the four corners of the gym. I thought it was good that she separated us into teams, so no one had to feel bad about being picked last or anything like that. Unfortunately, when she divided us into teams, Taylor and I were on opposite sides of the net.

  I was on the same team as Bethany, the girl Taylor had been whispering to in homeroom. I was glad that I had taken off my bow in the locker room (because I didn’t want to get it all sweaty) so they couldn’t be mean about it anymore. But I was not so glad to find Bethany on my team. Is she going to be all fake-nice to me now because we’re on the same side? I wondered. Or will she still be mean? was surprised a few minutes later to find myself starting to feel sorry for her.

  Bethany reminded me a lot of Damaris, one of my best friends at my old school. Damaris was great, but she was the opposite of me: she couldn’t stand gym. She thought it was torture and was not sporty at all. She wasn’t very coordinated or outdoorsy, either. But she was good at other things. She could do hard math in her head without having to write it down, for instance. She could also crochet well, and besides English, of course, could speak Spanish and Greek.

  I was sure that, like Damaris, Bethany enjoyed doing other things. I just didn’t know what those things were. What I did know was that she did not like gym. Her body language said it all: her shoulders were hunched up, her head was hanging down, and she kept scratching her arms every few minutes like she was being bitten by invisible mosquitoes. Most of all, whenever the ball came toward her, she would duck away from it instead of trying to hit it back over the net.

  Our teammates started getting mad at her. They growled and grumbled under their breath, muttering not-so-nice things that I was sure she could hear.

  She’s not going to get any better at this game if her own team is against her, I thought. Then I remembered how encouraging the other gymnasts had been to me my first time at Grace-n-Power. Even the kids who were in other classes had called out encouragement to me.

  The next time the ball came flying in Bethany’s direction, I cheered, “You can do it, Beth!” And even though she didn’t get it (in fact, she still kind of ran away from it) I patted her on the back. “You’ll get the next one!” I said.

  She looked at me with both doubt and hope in her eyes.

  The next time the ball came toward her, she made a feeble attempt to hit it back over the net. The ball made light contact with one of her wrists, fell to the floor, and rolled away. Some of our teammates clucked their tongues in disappointment, but I jumped up and down for her. “See? Good try!” I pumped my fist in the air.

  She flashed me a tiny smile.

  At the end of the game, she even managed to hit one over the net. We didn’t win, but I was so genuinely proud of her that I whooped and clapped my hands. “Great job, Beth!” This time she grinned with surprise at what she’d been able to do, as well as at our other teammates who had joined in cheering for her. It seemed that they all realized she had come a long way in just one game and were happy for her too.

  When Ms. Sharon saw what was going on, she nodded at us and flashed a thumbs-up. “Love it! Great sportsmanship, you guys!”

  As I wiped sweat from my forehead, I caught a glimpse of the winning team. They were all dancing around and cheering their victory—all except for Taylor, who stood with her hands on her hips, pouting. She looked strangely unhappy for someone on a team that had just won a game.

  I discovered why after I changed back into my uniform and looked for a mirror to tie the bow back on my head. I was heading toward the girls’ room when I heard the voices of Taylor and Bethany behind the next row of lockers. Hearing my name, I froze in place.

  “Why were you nice to Ansley?” Taylor asked huffily. From the sound of her voice, I could even picture her sneering.

  Bethany’s voice was high and unsure. “Well, she was nice to me, really.”

  “I told you, she thinks she can do everything. ‘Oh, look at me do gymnastics! Look at me, I can bake! Oh, yeah, and I know Mallory Winston too!’ Ugh! She makes me sick!”

  “Is it true she knows Mallory Winston, though? I heard about that. That’s pretty cool.”

  Taylor sucked in her lips. “Please. I’ll only believe it when I see it. Anyway, like I said, she’s just a show-off, and the best way to deal with show-offs is to not pay any attention to them. Okay?”

  “But . . . she wasn’t a show-off during the game,” Bethany said. “She didn’t hog the ball or try to score all the points or anything like that.”

  “But she was still a show-off,” Taylor insisted. “She was trying to get all the attention by being the nicest and most . . . sportsmanlike.”

  An uncomfortable silence fell between them. I could even feel the tension from where I stood.

  Then Bethany spoke again, “But Krista seems to like her. And Krista is your best friend.”

  “You mean was my best friend. Now all she seems to talk about these days is Ansley, Ansley, Ansley. I wish she’d never moved in next door to Krista.”

  Again, awkward silence fell between them. Finally, Bethany piped up, “But . . . didn’t you tell me that you invited Ansley to your bakery party on Friday?”

  “Yeah, but only because I had to. She’s going to ruin everything.”

  “Ruin it?” I heard a locker door slam closed. “How’s she going to do that?”

  “I don’t know. She just will. You’ll see.” Another locker door slammed. “Come on, we’d better go before we’re late to class.”

  I made sure to duck out of sight as Taylor and Bethany left the locker room. Once I was sure they were both gone, I leaned against a tiled wall in shock. I knew that Taylor disliked me, I just hadn’t known how much. How was I ever going to get her to change her mind about me?

  Chapter 13

  I acted cheerful the rest of the afternoon at school, but I couldn’t pretend with my family afterwards. That evening, as we all sat together at the dinner table, I shoved my mashed potatoes around my plate as my sisters chattered about their day. I was too lost in my thoughts to pay attention to what they were saying. It was my father’s voice that cut through my fog.

  “Ansley? Ansley, what’s wrong?”

  “What?” I looked up at him sort of dazed. “What do you mean? Nothing’s wrong.” I didn’t mean to lie. I just didn’t want to worry him.

  “Oh, yes there is!” my sisters all chorused.

  My father tilted his head at them. “You can’t fool us. When the chattiest Daniels sister is the quietest, she’s either sick or something else is wrong. And you don’t look like you have a fever.” His voice was gentle and kind. “Why don’t you tell us what’s bothering you?”

  I let out a deep breath. “Okay. I mean, the girls pretty much know about this already.” I looked over at all of them. “But it’s only gotten worse today.” And I told them all about my troubles with Taylor.


  My father and aunt listened without interrupting me. I told them everything, beginning with the insult about the bow I had been wearing to the conversation that I had heard between Taylor and Bethany in the locker room.

  “Well, at least you know now why she doesn’t like you,” Aunt Sam said when I was done.

  “I do? Why?”

  “She’s jealous of you.”

  “Is that it?”

  “Yes, and jealousy can be a very powerful emotion. She feels like you have so much going for you—talent, personality, goodness—and sees how attracted other people are to it. She’s even afraid that you’re stealing her best friend.”

  “But I’m not. I mean, I don’t have a best friend yet. I just have a lot of friends. I like hanging around a lot of people and having friends. I’m not doing anything wrong—and I’m not showing off! Oh, except that one time . . .”

  And I told them all about the Mallory Winston incident. When I was done, the twins exchanged glances and smiled, and even Dad was smiling a little.

  “Did I say something funny?”

  My father’s face got serious again. “No, honey. In fact, I think it’s good that you realized you were boasting and that it was wrong. After all, we should only boast in the Lord or not at all.”

  “How can we ‘boast in the Lord?’” Kitty asked.

  “It means to boast about God’s goodness, not our own. Any good that we do is through God’s grace in us, anyway.”

  “Like my being able to do gymnastics or bake really well. They are gifts God gave to me. I’m only using them like I’m supposed to,” I said with new understanding. “So how can I make her not jealous? How can I make Taylor like me?”

  Dad reached across the table and covered one of my hands with his. “You can’t,” he said.

  “Huh?”

  “You can’t make a person like you. You can only—and should only—be yourself. If other people like you when you’re yourself, then that’s great. But you shouldn’t have to perform tricks or favors or change who you are to get people to like you.